Time's A Great Healer
by TJ-TeeJay
Summary: Can Adam and Joan put aside their animosities and become friends again when Joan spends time in Chicago? Future fic, takes place nine years after s2. Sequel to my story Old Wounds. COMPLETE.
1. Meeting up would be nice

**Time's A Great Healer**

_by TeeJay_

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**Summary:**  
_Can Adam and Joan put aside their animosities and become friends again when Joan spends time in Chicago? Future fic, takes place nine years after s2. Sequel to my story "Old Wounds"._

**Author's Note:**  
_This is a sequel to my future fic "Old Wounds", which you can find under story ID 2552829. I suggest you read that one first because this one will allude to the whole back story that I set up in "Old Wounds". (This one will be in the third person, however, as opposed to "Old Wounds", which was first person from Adam's POV. But this one will still be a lot of Adam's POV, only in the third person.)_

_I already wrote in my closing remarks for "Old Wounds" that I had something more in mind to continue what I started, to redeem "Despicable Adam" and perhaps mend Adam and Joan's non-existent relationship to something a little more fluffy. Don't expect too much of that sugar-sweet fluff, though. If you're looking for anything other than Adam/Joan in this story, don't hold your breaths, you're not gonna find much of it. Just a friendly warning. _:o)

_Thank you, H.J. Glory, __Emily__, Evil But Friendly Rival, Chrizzy, LostSchizophrenic and the anonymous Grace fan for reviewing "Old Wounds". And most of all: Thank you, GermanJoan, for being my partner in crime, egging me on, feeding me new ideas, sharing our "Joaniverse" and popping my bubble (you know what I mean!). Special thanks for dressing Adam with me for his "date". That was fun! (Anyone wanna see the outfit we picked, e-mail me! LOL)_

_Music that inspired:  
Nickelback – Far Away / Savin' Me / Photograph  
K's Choice – Virgin State Of Mind  
Jem – 24  
Glashaus – Haltet die Welt an  
Söhne Mannheims – Zurück zu dir  
The Corrs – Long Night  
Hoobastank – What Happened To Us  
Oasis – Wonderwall  
Anastacia – Why'd You Lie To Me  
Lifehouse – Sick Cycle Carousel  
Anna Nalick – Breathe (2 AM)_

_And for those who aren't patient enough to read "Old Wounds", here's a quick recap of what happened before and during that story:  
Joan eventually forgave Adam for sleeping with Bonnie and they got back together. But things were never really the same, and around high school graduation, Adam was seeing someone else again. Over this, he got into a heated argument with Joan and ended up slapping her in the face. Once. Completely unintentional. Which was more than enough for them to separate. Since Adam was aware of him messing up again big time ("huge time", I should say) and that there was no way he could ever make it up to Joan, he packed his things and didn't waste any time to go to Chicago to go to college there (and after that find a job at a design studio in Chicago).  
Years pass and eight years later, Adam returns to Arcadia for the funeral of Helen Girardi (who died unexpectedly in a car crash). He's still not on speaking terms with Joan, hasn't seen or talked to her for years, even. They meet again involuntarily and Joan takes the first step for them to try and put the past behind them and at least talk to each other again.  
On the sidelines, I had Grace and Luke break up after graduation. Grace is now a carpenter and together with a guy named Tom, whom she might marry in the not too distant future. Kevin and Lily are still together and, well, Helen died. (Sorry, but I felt like writing something controversial at the time.) Oh, and Grace, Tom, Joan, Kevin & Lily and Carl Rove still live in Arcadia. Adam obviously lives in Chicago now, and at that point I hadn't decided where Luke now lives or what he does, but definitely something in science (duh!). I hinted at the fact that Joan works with children (and their parents). You'll find out more about that in this story. Now go and read (and please review afterwards)._

_Also, I designed a cover image for this story that I unfortunately can't post at fanfiction-net. But if you wanna see it anyway, have a look here: www.wormhole.de/fanfic/TimesAGreatHealer.jpg  
I gave both Adam and Joan different hair styles in an attempt to make them look older. Don't know if I succeeded. Judge for yourselves.  
_

**Disclaimer:**  
_These characters and settings are not mine. Nor am I claiming they are. They are property of CBS, Barbara Hall Productions, Sony or whoever else they might belong to. I'm not making any money out of this, although I wish I was._

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The numbers scribbled on the hurriedly torn off piece of an airline information brochure stared up at Adam from the paper, urging him to dial them already. He idly turned the cordless phone in his hand, his fingers hovering over the buttons. Should he dial them? What would she say? Didn't he and Joan agree that they wanted to start talking again? Then why was it so hard to take the first step?

He jumped as the phone suddenly rang in his hand so that he almost dropped it. Something that might have proved fatal to its plastic cover when it would have collided with the wood-colored laminated flooring. After he recovered, he quickly hit the 'answer' button.

"Hello?"

There was silence at the other end for a few seconds. "Hello?" he asked again. Probably some kids playing a prank, or some pervert wanting to annoy people.

"Adam?"

He had to swallow because... it was her voice, Joan's. The very person he had just been about to call—or gathering the courage to, at any rate. How was that for telepathy?

"Yeah," Adam croaked, his throat suddenly dry. He quickly cleared it. "Joan?"

"Yes, it's me." He could almost hear her smile at the other end. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, no. Not at all," he quickly denied. In fact, the timing couldn't be any less bad.

"Listen," Joan started. "I have a conference in Chicago in two weeks. And I thought..." She paused, but Adam already knew what she was implying. "I thought maybe we could meet up. I mean, if you want to." She let the sentence hang in the air, and Adam knew it was supposed to be a question for him to answer.

He was torn between rapid ecstasy at the prospect, or fast denial. But then he remembered their goodbye at the airport and her question of whether she could ever become Jane again. He wanted her to be Jane again, he really did. And then he didn't, because he was afraid of the implications.

He knew that he was pondering this for too long in silence when Joan said his name. "Adam?"

"Sorry," he quickly apologized. "Yes, meeting up would be nice," he finally said.

"Great," Joan agreed.

There was a bit of an awkward silence. Adam knew that if they were having this conversation face to face, she would be studying his face very closely now. More out of the necessity to interrupt the quietness, he asked, "So, how are you?"

He wanted to rip his tongue out immediately after these words had left it. It had been barely four weeks since they buried her mother. How did he think she was? He knew that he couldn't stop thinking about his mother for months after her suicide, couldn't stop seeing and hearing her in everything around him for a very long time.

He could sense that she didn't know what to say, unsure about whether to be honest or not. He wanted to deliver her from her hesitation, so he quietly, sympathetically said, "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked you that. I guess it must still be hard."

If anything, the situation felt much more awkward now. Was Joan fighting tears at the other end? It would have seemed like a very Joan thing to do. She had never been afraid to let her feelings show, and that was a part of what Adam had loved about her. "Joan, I'm sorry, you probably don't want to talk about it all over again, least of all with me."

"No, Adam," she interrupted him, her voice more steady than Adam thought it would have been. "If there's anyone to understand what this feels like, it's you."

He sat down on the couch with the receiver pressed to his ear. He remembered all too well what it had been like. And even though it had been over a decade, it still hurt very faintly when he thought about it. _You just learn _not_ to think about it_, he realized. "I just didn't wish for anyone else to have to go through all that," he told her. "It's like you're always waiting for something to ease the pain. You know, it gets better after a while." He knew it was a half-lie, but it was the only thing he could say to comfort her.

"Yeah, I guess." Her voice sounded strained and it made him want to utter a million meaningful words that could make it all better, that could lift the burden from her shoulders. But he knew that he had none, least of all any that could make any difference when they were hundreds of miles apart, speaking on the telephone. "Joan, I..." he continued, sighing in frustration. "I wish there was something I could do."

"Yeah, me too," she agreed quietly. In an attempt to steer the conversation into a more uplifting direction, she added, "Okay, so... The conference... I'm gonna be at the conference from March 8th to 10th. I guess I'll be pretty busy then, but I have Saturday and Sunday off before I go back on Sunday evening. How about we meet on Saturday? That's the 11th. Would that be okay?"

"Hang on, let me check my calendar," he verbally beckoned her to wait. Adam quickly walked over the desk and rummaged around for his PDA. He inwardly cursed himself for not having kept the desk a little tidier. "Damn," he swore under his breath when he couldn't find it.

"You okay?" Joan asked.

"Yeah," he quickly assured her. "It's just that I can't find my damn PDA. I know we had a couple of meetings planned for March and... Ah, got it!" He grabbed the PDA from under a stack of magazines. "Okay, let me see..." He accessed the Organizer function of the nifty electronic device that told him what his schedule for the next weeks looked like. "The 11th should be fine. What time?"

"I don't know. Maybe we could meet up for lunch? Say around 1 PM?"

"Sounds good. Have you been to Chicago before?" He was trying to think up a good place to meet.

"No. Well, except for a stop-over at the airport on my way to Toronto, but I never left the airport."

"Do you know where you will be staying?" A couple of landmark spots downtown came to mind as a good meeting point, but maybe it would be easier if he just picked her up at the hotel.

"Yeah, the Hyatt Regency Downtown. The conference will be there as well."

Adam had to suppress the urge to whistle. "Wow, fancy place."

Joan laughed. "Well, yeah, they really give us a treat every once in a while. Gotta throw the dog a bone."

"Okay, I'll come and get you," Adam decided. He knew the place. Not from a personal stay, but he had passed the impressive skyscraper on his way to work more times than he could count. "Just wait in the lobby around 1 PM. Or call me if there's a change of plans."

"Sounds great." Her voice was more uplifting, more enthusiastic now. Then it got a tad impatient. "Look, I gotta go. Kevin's got this thing he wants me to be at and... well... I'll see you in two weeks, right?"

"Sure," Adam replied. "See you then."

"Yeah. Bye," Joan saw him off.

"Bye."

There was a click at the other end and Adam listened to the monotonous busy signal for another few seconds before he lowered the receiver from his ear. He would be seeing Joan again, that would make it three times in just as many months. Who would have thought that that would ever happen, after all they had been through?

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"And the background in this one needs to be tuned down a little, so that the product catches your eye at the first glance."

Adam's boss animatedly pointed out the background area of the soda pop advert image with a laser pointer on the screen where the image was being projected from a laptop by a video projector.

"Other than that, I think we're on the right track here, people. I want everyone here first thing on Monday, focusing on making this one work, so we can meet the Tuesday deadline. Any objections, questions?"

He looked around at his employees, who were assembled in the meeting room around a U-shaped set of tables. Adam fidgeted in his chair, looking at his watch. A quarter to one. He was supposed to pick Joan up at one at the Hyatt. Why did his boss have to schedule the darned meeting today? Why did customers always put these impossible deadlines onto them? Sometimes he hated the demands of his occupation, today especially. He was gonna be late if his boss dragged this out any longer.

He looked at his colleagues, silently praying no one would ask any questions or utter any remarks. But everyone seemed as intent on leaving as Adam himself because no one spoke up. Adam breathed a silent sigh of relief when his boss moved to the laptop and shut down the presentation and equipment. "See you here bright and early on Monday, everyone," he dismissed his employees.

Adam quickly gathered his pen and writing pad, on which he had drawn some doodles among the notes during the meeting, rushing out of the room.

"Rove, you're in quite a hurry," his colleague Damian teased him.

"Yeah, and what's with the cologne?" Charlene, his only female colleague asked him, giving him a quizzical look as Adam passed her.

Adam stopped and turned around. "Is it too much?" he asked anxiously.

Charlene had to laugh. "No," she chuckled. "It's just fine." She raised her eyebrow and looked at Damian, smiling a knowing smile. "Rove's got a date, huh?"

"Oh, shut up," Adam told the two of them. "You're worse than a pack of frat boys." Without further ado, he went to his cubicle, put down the pad and pen and grabbed his coat and scarf, hurrying outside. Good thing the Hyatt wasn't far.

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	2. By a hair's breadth

Adam silently admired the imposing building he was walking towards. Large, glass-covered walls towered up and up; if Adam hadn't been in such a hurry, he would have had to tilt his head backwards to take it in in its entirety. The letters 'HYATT REGENCY CHICAGO' flaunted in capitals on the roof of the marquee that was topped with four glass pyramids. Adam strode towards the main entrance situated under the marquee in big steps, passing a stretch limo that was awaiting valet parking.

Before he pushed open the doors that led into the hotel, he looked at his watch. Five past one—he was just a few minutes late. Entering the lobby, large, dark gray stone tiles directed visitors to a set of stairs that opened into an spacious area which was accentuated by trees towering over groups of lounge suites with differently colored seat covers at regular intervals. Adam looked around to see if he could spot Joan anywhere.

And surely, there she was, sitting in one of the lounge chairs, leafing through some sort of brochure, more out of need to not get bored than out of interest, it seemed. Adam stopped at the top of the stairs for two seconds to study her. The first thing he noticed was that she had cut her hair; it was now at a length that stopped just below the shoulders with choppy layers in the front. She was dressed in a light gray pair of loose-fitting suit pants and a black overcoat, looking strikingly beautiful, just the way his photographic memory would always depict her.

He almost had to force himself to start walking towards her. He could stand here and stare at her all day. He approached her and greeted her with a casual, "Hey," to announce his presence. It felt uncannily like any other greeting all those years ago, back in high school.

Joan looked up when she heard the once so familiar voice coming from next to her. How could she have gotten so engrossed in a hotel leaflet that she didn't notice Adam approaching? But maybe it hadn't been the brochure but the reminiscing daydream that had kept her attention away from her actual surroundings.

"Hi," she greeted Adam back, getting up and quickly taking in his choice of clothes. Dark blue jeans peeked out from underneath an open black, knee-length coat. He wore a dark red shirt and an anthracite suit jacket beneath a knitted, woolen scarf in different colors. With a jolt she remembered the scarf. It was _that_ scarf, the one she had knitted for him in high school.

She half gaped at him, taking one end of the scarf into her hand, lifting it slightly. "Oh my God, you kept the scarf?"

Adam looked slightly sheepish, smiling faintly. "Yeah, I liked it so much. And since winters in Chicago manage to turn you into an ice block as soon as you leave the house, I've grown to really appreciate it."

Joan didn't know what to say. She released the hold on the scarf and took in his appearance once more. This Adam she wasn't familiar with—Business-Adam. It gave him a solemn, sophisticated edge, one she didn't exactly dislike. But in her mind, a part of Adam would always stay that loose-fitting jeans and hoodie-wearing type with a beanie on his head. The memory caught her unawares and she had to smile despite herself.

Adam looked at her enquiringly. "What are you smiling at?"

_Caught in the act! _Joan thought. "Oh, nothing. It's just..." She indicated his attire. "... this is a different look from the hoodies and beanies."

"Oh, right. I had to go to the office before I came here, we had a last minute meeting. Deadlines to meet, you know."

Joan nodded. "Yeah, I can imagine."

Adam turned his torso towards the entrance. "So, shall we go?"

"Yes, sure," Joan replied and they both went down the stairs to leave the hotel.

The cold air outside hit Joan like a brick wall. It was March, by all accounts the beginning of spring in most states, but in Chicago the wind chill made the 30-something degrees feel more like 15. She wrapped her own stripy scarf tighter around her neck, so that no bare skin below her chin was exposed to the cold air. She didn't think she could ever get used to this kind of cold, and she briefly wondered why Adam had chosen to make it his home.

Adam was skillfully navigating them away from the busy main streets, following less busy back streets that still held a certain flair that she couldn't remember any other city she had visited having. Maybe it was those round street lamps, the Chicago skyline, the distinct but not unpleasant smell of Lake Michigan and the rattling of the El overhead.

"So, where are we going?" she asked inquisitively.

Adam smiled a mysterious smile and raised his eyebrows. "You'll see."

"Oh, you're such a—" Joan started to say, but whatever she had meant to finish the sentence with was interrupted by a loud crashing noise. Both Adam and Joan's heads shot up to look in the direction of the noise, which had come from the crossing ahead. The sounds of metal tearing apart and glass breaking were ebbing away, but from the sight of things, a black SUV had run headlong into the side of a red sedan full force. Smoke was billowing from the sedan's hood, shattered glass and metal shards were scattered around the two cars.

Both Joan and Adam didn't have to think twice, they started running the few yards to the scene of the accident to see if they could help. This being a quieter street, there weren't many passers-by around. Adam quickly looked around if anyone had already called an ambulance. He saw a middle-aged man talking on his cell phone and reached him just when he was hanging up, asking him, "You call an ambulance?"

The man nodded. "Yeah, they said they'll be here as fast as they can, but that it might take a while."

Joan had already run up to the sedan's driver's side, where a young woman with a huge gash on her forehead from which blood was freely seeping down her face was sitting. She didn't seem to be conscious. Joan tried first opening the driver's side car door and then the passenger's side, but the impact must have warped the car body in such a way that the doors were jammed. Joan ran around the car again and knocked on the driver's side window, trying to get the woman's attention. "Miss? Hello, Miss?" she yelled urgently, but the woman didn't respond.

Looking around, she thought quickly. Smoke was still rising from the hood and a smell of burnt fuel and plastic stung in her nose as she ran around the car again. She picked up a piece of scrap metal lying close by and swung it into the car's passenger side's window with as much force as she could muster. The window didn't shatter on her first try and Joan swore under her breath.

With more force, she hit the window again, and this time it shattered apart into a thousand tiny glass fragments that crumbled into the inside of the car. Joan used her hand that she now covered with her coat sleeve to remove the few shards remaining around the window frame. Once accomplished, Joan leaned into the car and carefully shook the woman's shoulder. "Miss? Can you hear me?"

The woman's eyes blinked open, confusion on her face. When she lifted her head, she winced with pain. "What happened?" she asked confused.

Joan's voice was urgent. "You were in a car accident. Are you hurt?"

The woman gingerly tried to move arms and legs and her face contorted again when she moved her left arm. "My arm hurts. And I can't feel my legs," she said, slightly panicky.

"Don't worry, you're gonna be fine. Help is on the way," Joan tried to reassure the woman. The numb legs sure were a warning sign for a possible spine or neck injury. Joan remembered how precarious they could be and that you shouldn't move accident victims until you were sure they didn't have any. She instructed the woman, "Don't try to move. I'll get help. I'll be right back, okay?"

"No! Don't leave me!" The woman cried, suddenly scared.

"I'll come back, I promise," Joan told her with conviction in her tone. She pulled her head and torso back out the passenger window and looked around, her eyes searching for Adam.

She found him dragging a limp body from the black SUV, together with the man who was helping. She jogged over to Adam and got there just as they put the man gingerly down on the ground at a safe distance from the cars. Out of breath, Joan said urgently, "Adam, there's a woman trapped in the other car. The doors are jammed and... and I think she might have a spine injury. She says her legs are numb."

Adam looked at the man who had been helping him. He was kneeling over the accident victim they had just rescued from the car, checking vital signs and breathing. He looked like he knew what he was doing. Adam's and his gaze met for a second and the man told Adam, "I have this covered. Go help the woman."

Adam nodded once and Joan and him went running back to the sedan. Adam tried to open the car doors but didn't have any more luck than Joan. Joan leaned in again through the passenger side window. The woman looked at Joan, and Joan thought it was a good sign that she was still conscious. "See, I told you I would be back. What's your name?"

"Linda," the woman croaked. "Melinda, actually, but everyone calls me Linda."

"I'm Joan," Joan said. She indicated Adam rummaging around outside. "That's Adam outside, we're going to help get you out of here."

Just at that moment, a small flame erupted from below the car's hood. Joan heard Adam's pressing voice from behind her. "Joan, we need to get her out of the car, it could blow any minute. I need to smash the driver's side window. Can you cover her with this?"

Adam held out his coat to Joan, who got out of the car and took the coat before she leaned inside the car again. "Linda, we need to smash the driver's side window. I'll put this over your head, okay?"

Linda nodded weakly and Joan carefully placed the woolen coat over Linda's head before she retreated out of the car's interior. "Go!" she yelled at Adam to indicate he could start. Having found a crowbar-like metal rod somewhere, Adam used it to hit the window with one end, first too carefully, then with enough force for the window pane to fall apart into tiny pieces that crumbled to the concrete outside and spattered all over Linda, who was safely covered by Adam's coat.

Adam carefully removed it from the woman's head, who looked at him with panicky eyes, now having noticed the flames coming from the car's hood and realizing the danger she was in. Joan had appeared back inside the car through the passenger window. Adam was leaning through the driver's side window, asking, "Joan, can you unfasten the seatbelt? We need to get her out of here."

"Hang on," Joan replied, searching for the plastic release button, fumbling around with her fingers to find it next to the driver's seat. While she did, she told Adam, "Her name is Linda."

Adam looked at the woman, trying not to be overwhelmed by all the blood on her face and clothes from the gushing head wound. "All right, Linda. We need to get you out of here, and the only way is through this window. Do you think you can make that work?" He looked at her questioningly despite the seriousness of the situation.

Linda looked troubled. "I can't move my legs," she admitted.

"Okay," Adam said. Looking at Joan, who had managed to pry the seatbelt buckle from its retainer, he instructed her, "I'll grab her torso and you try to get her legs. Can you do that?"

"Yes, I'll try," Joan said.

Adam slung his arms underneath Linda's armpits and drew her towards him, so that her back was facing him. As carefully as possible, he started to drag Linda's body through the window. Good thing she was a petite, slim woman. Joan tried freeing Linda's legs from the foot well, but there was resistance when she tugged at the right leg.

"Adam, I think her leg is stuck," came Joan's muffled voice from the car's interior.

"Damn!" The curse slipped from Adam's mouth. "Can you get it loose?" he asked Joan.

"Hang on." Joan wriggled her body inside the car another notch to try and reach the foot well. She tried to tug at Linda's right leg, but something was holding it in place; possibly the fabric of her pants had hooked itself around one of the pedals. Joan tried to grope around in the foot well to determine what exactly the problem was, but she couldn't reach it.

She was painfully aware that time was running out. Joan realized that the only way for her to accomplish anything was to scramble inside the car completely. She had been reluctant to, but there was no other way, so she did.

Once inside, she crawled with her torso down towards the space below the steering wheel, which wasn't an easy feat with Linda's legs still blocking the way. Joan felt around with her hands—and sure enough—the hem of Linda's pants had intertwined with the accelerator pedal. Joan tried to pry it loose, and with a sound of tearing fabric, the hold on Linda's leg was finally released. Joan pulled herself upright. "Start pulling," she instructed Adam, which he did. Joan guided Linda's legs out the window as best as she could from the inside, helping Adam with the load of Linda's body. Having gotten the leg free was half the battle, Adam had Linda out the window in no time.

More flames appeared from the car's hood now. Through the open car window, Joan could see Adam carrying Linda away from the car in his arms, yelling, "Joan, get the hell out of there!"

Which was what she did, but getting out through a car door window wasn't that easy with no one there to help you. Joan wasn't aware of the few hissing sounds that came from the underside of the car. Sounds that you usually heard when fire was coming into contact with solvents and other highly flammable material.

Just as Joan had gotten her legs free of the window and struggled to her feet to run a few steps away from the scene, she heard an ear-splitting explosion, felt its searing heat on her back, and a split second later felt its force lifting her from the ground, propelling her forward. It was all she could do to throw herself to the hard concrete and roll to her side, the way she had learned in self-defense classes she had taken two years ago.

She felt pain shooting through her hip as it collided with the ground; adrenaline quickly numbing it. Something collided with her back, pieces of stray debris were landing next to her. Joan groaned and then lay still for a few merciful seconds.

The explosion had happened without warning. Adam had tumbled forward a step, trying not to let Linda slip from his grip. He was far enough away to not be hit by the blast or any flying parts of wreckage, but he hadn't seen or heard Joan since he had left her in the car and carried Linda away.

Adam placed her gingerly on the ground a few feet away from a row of parking cars. He laid her down on her back, removed his suit jacket and draped it over her. She looked at him with an exhausted, pained look in her eyes. With urgency in his voice, Adam said to her, "I need to look for Joan. I'll be back, okay?"

Linda nodded almost imperceptibly and Adam got up from his crouching position. He focused all his attention on Joan, looking in the direction of the explosion. Had she gotten hurt? She must have been much closer to the blast than himself. God, please! Let her be okay! He sprinted towards the smoldering, still burning wreckage, shouting her name. "Joan! Joan!"

He saw her lying on the ground a few yards from the sedan—or what was left of it. When he reached Joan, she was lying on her side, small, bleeding cuts on her face in a few places. Adam dropped to his knees next to her, calling her name again. She slowly struggled into a sitting position. "Adam," she exclaimed.

"Joan, are you all right?" Worry and panic mingled in Adam's voice. Joan gingerly moved her hand to her face where the cuts and bruises began to sting. When she withdrew her hand, it was slightly bloody from where it had touched the open wounds. Her hip also throbbed on her right side, but she didn't think anything was broken.

She looked at Adam, whose face was contorted in a grimace of shock and concern. "Yeah, I think I'm okay."

Joan tried to get up with a moan and felt Adam's arm steadying her. She limped more than walked to where Adam had left Linda on the ground, with Adam hugging her waist for support. Her hip must have taken most of the brunt when she had fallen to the ground, it hurt with every step she took, but the pain was still bearable.

They went to a car parked on the curb, where Adam placed Joan in a sitting position, so she was leaning with her back to the car's front tire. "Rest here," he simply said, fairly sure that Joan was okay enough to be left along for a few minutes.

Joan nodded and said, "I'll be okay. Go look after Linda."

She leaned her back against the cold rubber and metal of the car's tire, trying to find the position that her hip would hurt least in when she heard the ambulance approaching. She watched Adam leaning over Linda's figure on the ground, saying something to her. To any bystander, he might be looking like he had the situation completely under control, but having been his girlfriend for almost three years, there were some signs that she still could read after all these years of separation. Going through college and working in a tough job might have given him a confidence she hadn't yet seen in him, but the way he drove his hand through his hair or rubbed his eyebrow with his fingers told her that he was just as nervous and scared as the next guy.

When the approaching ambulance stopped as soon as it reached the scene of the accident, Joan's eyes followed Adam running towards it, talking to a blond paramedic with spiky hair who first got his emergency medical kit from the back and then a plastic carrying board and a neck collar.

The two of them jogged back to an unmoving Linda, the paramedic crouching next to her, addressing her. From the urgency on his face and the movements he was making, Joan could discern that things surrounding the young woman seemed to have deteriorated.

"Please let her be okay," she begged silently. She lifted her head slightly to look up at the sky, to address Him. In her mind, she told him, "I know you can hear me, and I know that you are listening, so I beg of you: Please let this young woman live, and please let her be okay. I don't want anyone else to have to go through what Kevin went through—is still going through. No one deserves that, do you hear me!" Her imaginary voice was getting angrier with every word. Why would God ever allow so much injustice in the world?

She didn't really expect an immediate answer, didn't expect him to turn up. His visits had become more and more infrequent over the years, but he had always stuck around one way or another. Just enough to let her know that her faith in Him shouldn't ever falter and that good ripples still existed. The assignments had become less, but every now and then he would be there, asking for something or other. And somewhere along the way, she had learned not to let it distract her, annoy her or make her embarrass herself the way it used to. Experience and going through life after high school had taught her that, and she was immensely thankful for it.

But still, in moments like this, she would question His motives, ask how He could let certain things happen the way they did. And sometimes him telling her that everything happened for a reason just wasn't good enough.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, sending another silent prayer to Him. When she opened them again, the paramedic was checking Linda's vital signs. He then exchanged a few quick words with Adam, who told him something and then pointed at her. Joan couldn't hear what they were saying from the few feet's distance away, but she could very well guess what Adam was telling him: That the other accident victims, including Linda, should be taken care of first, him and Joan could wait.

Not taking her eyes off Adam, she saw him coming towards her. He first crouched down next to her, then lowered himself to sit down, also leaning his back against the parked car. He turned his head to look at her and explained, "They're sending another ambulance."

Joan looked back at him. "Is Linda okay?"

Adam frowned his forehead slightly. "Honestly? I don't know. She lost consciousness. But she's in good hands now. There's nothing more we can do."

Adam was amazed how Joan could sit here, clearly in pain herself, but still worry about others more than herself. She had always been this selfless if push came to shove, even in high school. And she had always been that fighter, not giving up, always looking for ways to help or resolve a situation. Hadn't that been what he had loved about her, one of those tiny little things that had made him feel completely attracted to her? When had he lost the ability to appreciate her for what she was?

He looked into her eyes and saw the pain in them, the physical pain. "Are you hurting?" he asked her.

Joan smiled at him meekly. "Nothing I can't handle."

"You're gonna be fine," he told her. How lame a thing to say was that?

Joan's face was suddenly lightening up slightly when she said sarcastically, "I think they're gonna drug me up pretty good. If that's not something to look forward to. There's something to be said for painkillers, you know?"

Adam couldn't help but smile a small smile. He felt Joan's hand reaching for his, turning it so its palm faced upwards. There was a deep cut right across it, blood and grime and dirt all around it. Joan's brow furrowed. "Ouch, that's one ugly cut. I think that'll need stitches."

Adam hadn't even noticed it until now. He flexed his fingers and suddenly had to wince at the pain shooting through his hand. "Maybe I'll try some of those painkillers myself," he joked.

Just then, the second ambulance arrived, its sirens blaring and casting red and blue light flashes all around. Both Joan and Adam watched it come to a halt close-by. Adam got up and extended his good hand towards Joan. "Come on. You think you can hobble over there?"

Joan took his hand and let herself be slowly pulled up, her face contorting with pain for a second. She put her arm around his shoulder and together they made their way to the ambulance.

--...----...----...--


	3. Sitting, waiting, wishing

There was nothing he hated more than hospitals. Their waiting areas were always much too sterile, too uninviting, and the smell of detergent only underlined the uneasy atmosphere that seemed to perpetually hover in the air. Adam leaned his head back against the white-washed wall behind the row of plastic chairs he was sitting on.

They had admitted both him and Joan to the emergency room after they had been brought in by the ambulance, but had been put in different examining rooms. Adam had had to wait for over half an hour on a bed behind a curtain before a tall, lean doctor with an eastern European accent had come to stitch up the cut in his hand. After that, they had all but kicked him out to wait in the waiting area. When he had asked about Joan, they had told him that he would be informed if there was any news. He hadn't gotten any more information about Linda either.

Adam lowered his head and looked at the starkly white bandage on his hand. The local anesthetic was wearing off and the cut was starting to sting unpleasantly. He carefully flexed his fingers, wincing and emitting a hissing sound as he did so. This was his right hand, his mouse-hand. James, his boss, wouldn't be happy about that, what with the deadline coming up in three days. But maybe it would have healed somewhat by Monday.

"Are you hurt real bad?" a child's voice pulled him from his reverie.

Adam looked up into the face of a maybe five year old girl with shoulder-length dark brown, curly hair. She cocked her head to the side, studying Adam curiously. He suddenly realized that he still must have blood stains all over his arms, face and clothes in odd places. Maybe he should find a bathroom and try to get halfway cleaned up.

He looked back at the kid and said, "No, these..." he pointed at some of the blood stains, "aren't mine. I helped someone who got into an accident."

The kid then looked at the bandage on his hand, her face still scrunched into a quizzical expression. "But your hand is hurt."

He lifted it slightly. "Yeah, I cut it."

"Does it hurt?" the girl asked innocently.

Adam had to smile slightly. "A little."

The girl stepped closer, carefully took Adam's hand into her own and lifted it to her mouth. She blew on it and told Adam very matter-of-factly, "There, it's all better now. Mommy always says that if you blow on it, it won't hurt that much."

Adam's face formed into a full fledged smile now. "Yes, that's so much better. Thank you." He looked around to see where the girl's parents might be.

Just at that moment, a woman neared the both of them, saying in a sharp voice, "Stacey, come here. Didn't I tell you not to talk to strangers?"

Adam quickly told the woman, "No, no, it's okay. She was just..." He trailed off. "She was trying to be nice."

The woman was slightly placated by Adam's words. "Oh, she's way too curious for her own good. Sorry if she harassed you."

"She didn't harass me, don't worry." Adam got up and wanted to offer his right hand, but then withdrew it again. "Sorry," he said when he realized that he didn't exactly want to have his injured hand squeezed. "Adam. Um, Rove," he introduced himself.

The woman looked taken aback for a second, but then thought the better of it. "Shirley. Plakston. And you've already met my daughter, Stacey." She slowly sat down in the seat next to Adam while Stacey moved closer to her mother but continued to stare at Adam with childlike curiosity.

Adam was suddenly aware of all the blood and dirt stains on his clothes and skin. He gestured at them with his good hand and said to the mother. "Sorry about all the... mess. I was kinda... I was involved in an accident."

"So what are you still doing here?" Shirley asked.

"My—" for a second he had been tempted to say 'girlfriend', but that was hardly the case. Anymore _or_ again. He quickly corrected himself. "A friend of mine is still being examined, I'm waiting to see her."

"Oh," Shirley said, placing Stacey on her lap. "Was she badly injured?"

"No," Adam replied. "At least I hope not." He directed his gaze at Stacey, who was now playing with a doll, mumbling imaginary dialogue. "So, what's your story?" he asked Stacey's mother.

"Oh, I'm just waiting for my husband to get off work. It's warmer in here than out there, you know."

Adam nodded. "Yeah, Chicago can still be pretty cold around this time of year."

Just then, a petite, blond nurse poked her head into the waiting room. "Mr. Rove?"

Adam looked up. "Yes?"

"A Ms. Girardi is asking for you."

"Oh, right." Adam turned to Shirley. "Looks like that's my call. It was nice meeting you."

"Yeah, you too. Take care. Hope your friend will be okay."

"Thanks," Adam told her and then followed the blond nurse, who was clad in a light blue nurse's uniform, back into the emergency room. He was directed to an examining room. When he entered it, Joan was sitting on the edge of one of the beds, trying to put her shoes on. Adam could see that it was obviously causing her pain to do so, so he quickly crouched down in front of her. "Here, let me help."

Joan gladly accepted the help. "Thanks," she said with a sigh of relief.

When she had both shoes on, Adam got up. "So, what's the verdict?" he asked, trying to joke.

"Amputation and then brain surgery in the morning," Joan deadpanned. "No, seriously, it's just scrapes and bruises. Pretty bad contusion on my hip, but they assured me no internal injuries or broken bones. They said I can go home but I should take it easy for the next few days." She lifted a small sheet of paper from the bed and waved it. "And take lots of very potent drugs," she said with a smile.

"Unchallenged," Adam laughed. "Okay, let's get you out of here."

"No objection from me." Joan slid off the bed and Adam went to her side to see if she needed any help. But after the first tentative steps, she managed on her own. Nevertheless, Adam hovered close by, in case she did need support after all.

They left the exam room and Joan had to sign some papers at the admittance desk before she was officially released. When they turned to go, Joan suddenly stopped and addressed Adam. "Wait. What about Linda? Have you heard anything?"

Adam shook his head. "I asked, but they wouldn't tell me anything."

Joan went back to the admittance desk. "Excuse me," she addressed a rather voluminous African-American nurse. "There was a woman brought in earlier. She was in a car accident, her name's Linda. Can you tell me what happened to her?"

"Are you family?" the nurse asked, sounding mildly annoyed.

"What? No. No, I... I think we may have saved her life."

"Oh." The nurse raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you anything if you're not family. But you can leave me a note that I can give to her. I think if someone saved my life in an accident, I'd like to at least know who my savior was."

"Can't you tell us anything? Anything at all? At least if she... if she made it?" Joan almost begged. "Please?"

The nurse gave Joan another scrutinizing look. Then she sighed. "Okay. Just this once. What was her name?"

"Linda," Joan said. "No, actually Melinda, I think. I don't have any last name."

"No last name? That's gonna be a tough one, honey. Do you know how many patients are rushed through here every day?" The nurse sounded annoyed again.

"Can't you try? Please?" Joan asked again. "She must have been brought in some time between one and two PM, she might have had a spine injury of some kind."

"Okay, here's what we'll do. You write a note and I'll try to find her for you and make sure she gets your note. That's really all I can do."

Joan sighed. "Okay," she agreed, seeing that this was the best they would get, given the situation. She asked the nurse for a sheet of paper and a pen and scribbled a quick note for Linda, saying that if she wanted to get in touch with either Joan or Adam, she could do so. She put both hers and Adam's cell phone numbers on it after having asked Adam to spell his out. She folded the note up and handed it to the nurse. "Please make sure she gets this."

The nurse smiled at her, but Joan couldn't say if it was a fake or honest smile. "I will, I promise."

"Okay," Joan said before she turned to finally leave the hospital with Adam.

Outside, Adam hailed a cab and they both got in. Adam gave the driver an address that was unfamiliar to Joan. She looked at him. "Where are we going? That's not the hotel."

Adam shot her an incredulous look. "You think I'm gonna let you go back to the hotel in your condition? I'm taking you to my place. If that's okay with you, I mean."

Joan didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure if that was such a good idea. Meeting with Adam had sounded like a good idea when things had gone according to plan. A nice lunch, maybe some contemplating old times, then back to the hotel and her life. Spending a whole night in such close proximity brought a bit of a disconcerting edge into the picture. But the truth was, she could probably use the extra help, fragile as she felt right now. Maybe staying with Adam didn't seem such a bad idea after all.

"Yeah, okay, sure," she said guardedly.

Adam must have realized her hesitation when he said, "Don't worry, I have an extendable couch in the living room that's actually quite comfortable. I mean, you can always go back to the hotel if you don't like my place. Deal?"

Joan was reassured somewhat. "Deal," she said, leaning back in her seat and watching the houses pass by as the cab driver steered them through unfamiliar streets, wondering what Adam's apartment would look like.

--...----...----...--


	4. Everything old is new again

**Author's Note:**  
_The first version of this story was missing the scene with Carol, Linda and Dan, but thanks to H.J. Glory's incessant bugging, I decided to add a scene where we do get to know about what happened to Linda. _:o)

--...----...----...--

The water made bubbling sounds in the electric kettle Adam was using to boil water for tea in his kitchen. He switched it off and took the water tank from its base to pour the hot water into a tea pot in which two teabags with a pleasantly smelling and tasting herbal tea blend were placed. Steam rose from it as Adam put the lid on to let it stand for a few minutes.

He and Joan had gone to his apartment after having decided to get some clean clothes and other necessities for Joan from the hotel first. Both had gotten cleaned up, licking their wounds. Joan had spent a good ten minutes in front of Adam's bathroom sink mirror, being appalled at the cuts and bruises on her face, now covered by small skin-color sterile strips. Briefly, she wondered if they were going to leave scars, but none had needed stitches, so she was confident that they might not mark her for life. What she dreaded were all the innocent questions of the kids and the curious looks of the parents that she would be working with.

In the kitchen, Adam took two mugs out of one of the kitchen cupboard overhead, but hesitated whether to take the sugar sprinkler. He couldn't remember if Joan had her tea with sugar or not. And even if he did remember, habits sometimes tended to change. He himself used to drink his coffee milky and sweet. Nowadays, black and strong was what he preferred.

_Sugar sprinkler it is_, he thought, adding a teaspoon to the assortment of items he was assembling. He carried mugs, spoon and sugar from the kitchen into the living room, where Joan had made herself comfortable on the couch. He wordlessly placed the two mugs and sugar sprinkler on the couch table before he bustled back to the kitchen.

Joan looked around curiously, taking in Adam's apartment, the living room in particular. _Does not meet expectations,_ she thought. But in a good way. She had imagined something small-ish and modest, maybe decorated with modern furniture, something undistinguished and ordinary.

But the spacious room that greeted her was anything but. Two light-brown clinkered pillars stood tall throughout the room and flowed seamlessly into the high ceiling, fitting perfectly with the walls made up of the same light-brown brick. The furniture was partly antique, partly modern, but all either wooden or going well with it. The walls were decorated with framed movie and theater play posters, both in color and black & white. The dark blue painted window- and doorframes also fit perfectly to give the whole apartment an air of coziness and comfort. The moment she had set foot in here, she had been fairly sure that she didn't want to stay at the hotel by herself tonight.

"Okay, tea's ready," Adam said when he came back with a silver thermos teapot. He sat down in the armchair next to the couch and poured steaming tea into Joan's mug first, then his own. "Sugar?" he asked her.

Joan shook her head. "No, thanks."

_No sugar sprinkler next time, then._ Adam made a mental note. They sipped their tea in silence for a minute before Joan said, "This is a great place. How'd you find it?"

"Oh, I got lucky, actually. I lived in this kinda shabby place for a while, but then a colleague told me a friend of his was moving out of Chicago and asked if I was interested. I fell in love with it the first time I saw it. It used to be an old fire station a long time ago before they refurbished it."

"Yes, I can sort of see that," Joan said, studying the walls and pillars again. Then she realized something that struck her as odd. "Adam, why aren't there any of your paintings or sculptures here?"

Adam suddenly looked uncomfortable. He put his tea mug down on the table where it made a clanging noise when it collided with the varnished wooden surface. How could he explain this to Joan? "I..." he started, finding it hard to express. "I used to do so much sculpting and painting in high school and in college, I guess I got sick of them. You know, I haven't painted for a while."

Joan's gaze pierced him with a questioning intensity he was not prepared for. "Why not?"

"I can't really say. Maybe it had to do with what happened before... you know... I left Arcadia. Maybe it just reminded me too much of the life I had before college. Maybe I just wanted to start over, leave the past behind." A frown formed on his face. "Does that make any sense?"

"Yeah, I think it does," Joan said softly, understanding all too well. After she and Adam had separated for good, she had put away everything that reminded her of him, even in the most remote of ways, away and out of sight.

She took another sip from her tasty tea before she stated, "So, this," she pointed at the apartment's interior, "is the new Adam. The one who designs art with the computer and wears business suits to work. Is he any more interesting than the old one?"

Adam couldn't help but smile. "I don't know. Guess you'll have to find out for yourself. Is there a new Joan as well?" he countered.

"Hm, maybe." She hesitated before she added, "Probably."

"Tell me about her. All I know at this point is that she saves injured people from exploding cars, almost getting blown up herself in the process."

"Yeah, that Joan was new to me herself," she admitted. "What do you wanna know about her? She has a masters degree in psychology. She works as a counselor, specializing in parent-children care. She has an apartment not half as nice as this one in Brooketown and, as you know, drives a red VW Beetle."

"And does she still keep trying out new things?"

Joan looked at Adam, a smile playing on her lips. "You mean does she still flake out the way she used to? No, I don't think so. She's learned to keep that in check."

"That's certainly an improvement," Adam said with a humorous undertone.

"And the new Adam, does he still hide out in his shed? Or whatever goes as the shed nowadays." Joan studied Adam's face to try and read his answer there instead of waiting for his verbal answer. She had always found Adam's shyness somehow endearing, but sometimes she had wished he'd have more confidence. In others as well as himself, but himself most of all.

"The new Adam doesn't have a shed anymore. But if you mean if he's still a bit of a loner, yeah, I guess so. It's not like I don't have any friends to hang out with, but sometimes I like the solitude of being on my own, you know? I talk to so many people at work all day. My colleagues, customers, sponsors. Sometimes I just like to come home and not talk to anybody for a while. Don't you feel that way sometimes?"

Joan thought for a moment. "Hm. To be honest, no, not really. I guess growing up with two brothers never really gave me a chance to have a lot of privacy. You learn to live with constant chatter around you. Sometimes I hated it, sometimes I appreciated it. I don't know if I would have liked to grow up as an only-child."

There was silence for a few seconds, and then Joan asked Adam, "Do you sometimes wish you had stayed in Arcadia? You know, if things had been different?" She looked him in the eyes, but Adam didn't meet her gaze.

"I don't know," Adam replied, uncertain. "Sometimes I think it was the right thing to leave, no matter what. And sometimes I miss that place, there's some memories you can't erase or replace. But ultimately, it was the right decision to get out of there. I really like it here."

"How can you like a city this cold?" Joan asked, incredulous.

"Oh, it's really not so cold. It's all about the clothes, that's what it comes down to." Adam explained.

"Oh, _really_," Joan said sarcastically. "No way, Adam, I don't think a 100 scarves can protect you from temps below 10 degrees."

"You'd be surprised," Adam told her. "Lamb's wool gloves, that's the secret." When Joan raised an eyebrow, Adam laughed. "I swear. They work wonders."

"Not in a hundred years, not for me." Joan waved a hand, explaining. "I think it's a female thing. Cold hands, cold feet. And once they're cold, they're cold. No lamb's wool gloves or socks will help, believe me."

"_Oh_ yeah, now I know what you're talking about. Maria used to have these ice chunks for feet in the winter."

Joan frowned. "Maria?"

Adam looked slightly sheepish, suddenly very self-conscious. "She was an English major. We met in college. We were together for about a year. For a while it was great, but in the end we both realized that we weren't made to last."

That was all Adam wanted to disclose to Joan at this point. He wondered if she had gone out with anyone since. He remembered Grace telling him about someone, but he couldn't remember any details. But he didn't want to pressure Joan into talking about something that she would feel uncomfortable about. If she wanted to talk about it, she would have to make the first step.

Adam filled his mug with fresh tea again to bridge the silence and see if Joan would pick up on the subject, but she didn't. He didn't push, but instead just sipped his tea. "Want some more?" he offered, just to lighten the awkward moment.

"No, thanks," Joan declined. To change the subject, she indicated the couch she was sitting on. "So this is where I'll be sleeping?"

"The couch? No, you'll get the bed, of course."

"No, Adam, really. I can sleep on the couch. You said it was quite comfortable," Joan tried to negotiate.

Adam's voice was determined. "No way. I insist you take the bed. You're the one with the bruised hip, you need a decent mattress."

Joan had no choice but to relent. She lifted her arms in an I-give-up stance. "Okay, Dr. Rove. I'll take the bed."

"Good," Adam agreed, satisfied. "I'll go and quickly set things up for you in the bedroom."

Joan made a move to get up. "Let me help."

But Adam was back to his commanding tone. "Under no circumstances. You will just sit there like a good dog and let yourself be tended to. I won't have it any other way. Think of this as your hotel room with room service for the night." Adam flashed her a big smile and bowed. "Mademoiselle."

Joan sighed in mock resignation. "Oui, garçon," Joan acknowledged jokingly.

And with that Adam vanished into the bedroom to leave an amused Joan waiting in the living room.

--...----...----...--

Carol Pickens sighed in relief as she hit the Return key on the keyboard, having just entered the last patient chart report of her working day into the computer. She quickly handed her colleague, whose silver name tag read 'Maggie Dermot', the few patient charts that still needed following up on, explaining in a few practiced words what had been done and what still needed to be done. Maggie was, just like herself, an old hand in the nursing business at County General, so the hand-over of tasks and duties was swift and professional.

Just as Carol was about to go to the locker room, a note lying on the Admittance Desk next to the computer mouse caught her attention. It was then that she suddenly remembered—it was the note that one of the patients, an attractive, young lady, had left today, asking to be delivered to some unknown woman who had been in an accident. Carol tried to rack her brain. Lucy? Linda? Linda, yes. No, _Me_linda, the woman had said.

She fought with the decision. It would be so easy to just throw the note in the trash and go home, but she also remembered something about the young woman having saved the other woman's life, probably getting injured herself in the process. She didn't have to think twice when she imagined that if she would have been in an accident and someone had saved her life, she would at least like to thank that person.

Carol took the note into her hand and accessed the patient database. She opened the search query template and entered the name 'Melinda' as first name. There were about 20 entries that popped up, but after some scanning of medical terminology in the patients' electronic charts, only one that was admitted today and fit the characteristics of a car accident victim.

The computer also told Carol that Melinda had had surgery on her spine and was upstairs now, having been moved from Recovery to one of the rooms in the neurosurgical ward. Carol pocketed the note into her light blue nurse's uniform and made her way to the elevator to ride up to Neurosurgery.

As she approached the door to room 406, she rapped on it to announce her presence. When she didn't hear anything, she entered the room, carefully peeking her head in first. Only one of the beds was occupied by a petite woman with a distinctly red and swollen cut on her forehead, looking very fragile and pale. Next to the bed a chair was pulled up, which was occupied by a man, maybe in his early 30's.

As Carol stepped into the room, both the woman and the man looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and weariness. Carol asked, "Melinda Cartwright?"

The woman in the bed nodded ever so slightly and the man next to her answered for her, "Yes, that's us."

Carol went closer and looked at Linda more than at what she assumed was her boyfriend or husband. She held the note that Joan had left out to the man, since Linda looked too fragile and weak to do much with it, explaining, "A young woman asked me to give this to you. She said she may have saved your life."

"Joan," Linda whispered.

The man's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Joan? You know her?" he asked Linda.

Linda closed her eyes for several seconds, as if the sheer uttering of an explanation tired her, before she said, "She and her friend Adam got me out of the car. If it hadn't been for them, I don't think I would be here right now." She lifted her arm slightly, wanting to indicate the note, but then let it sag back onto the bed exhaustedly. "What's it say?"

The man unfolded the sheet of paper and read aloud what Joan had quickly scribbled down, "'Linda, this is Joan Girardi and Adam Rove. We wanted to let you know that we're both okay. We hope that you will be all right since they couldn't tell us anything in the emergency room. If you want to get in touch, these are our numbers. Please get well soon.' It's signed 'Joan'."

Linda sighed a small sigh of relief. She turned her head to look at the man next to her, even if it was a bit of an effort for her. "Dan, they saved my life. I need to call them."

But Dan told her in both a determined and soothing tone, "Honey, first you need to get well. Can we concentrate on that first of all?"

Linda whispered tiredly, "Yeah."

The man called Dan got up from his chair, telling Linda lovingly, "I'll be right back. Get some rest."

He walked over to Carol and indicated for her to follow him out of the room. When they were both outside, he said to Carol, "Thank you, we really appreciate it."

Carol nodded, "Just doing my job." Although, strictly speaking, it wasn't part of her job to deliver personal notes to patients that weren't even _her_ patients. But seeing how it might give both involved parties peace of mind, the free time she had spent on this task was a small sacrifice to make.

--...----...----...--


	5. Nightmares

Having extended the couch so it would, in a crunch, make room enough for two to sleep on, Adam dumped the extra duvet and pillow on it. When he saw the sweatpants and t-shirt he had quickly grabbed from the wardrobe draped over the backrest, he realized he better also get a sweatshirt, it could get frosty; his heating system took a while to warm up in the mornings.

Going over the bedroom, Adam softly rapped on the door, asking, "Can I come in?"

From inside, Joan answered, "Yeah, sure."

Adam carefully opened the door and stepped in. Joan was already lying in his bed, reading in a book.

"Sorry, I forgot something," Adam said apologetically, walking over to his wardrobe and pulling out a sweater. "Bedtime reading?" he asked.

"Yeah." She turned the book around so Adam could read the title. "Emily Dickinson," she explained. "She writes such beautiful poetry."

"I didn't know you liked poetry," Adam said, surprised.

Joan gave him a mysterious look. "I bet there's a lot you don't know about me."

"True," he said. "But isn't that the fun part, finding out about it?" He gave her a smile that made old, familiar butterflies appear in her stomach. Feeling suddenly very uncomfortable, she quickly looked back down at her book.

Adam took the sweater and walked to the door. He turned around, saying, "Good night, then."

"Night," Joan replied almost automatically and watched how the door quietly closed behind him after he had left. Suddenly not wanting to delve into the world of 19th century poetry anymore, she closed the book, switched off the lamp on the nightstand and tried to shift into a comfortable position.

This was seriously weird. She was sleeping in Adam's bed. Something she would never, in a million years, have imagined she'd do. Granted, she was sleeping in it alone, but it was still something that introduced a certain element of strangeness when you thought about it. She contemplated what Grace might say, if only she knew.

_"Hey, Girardi, how was your trip?"_

_"Oh, fine. Except maybe that I almost got blown up in an exploding car and that I slept in Adam's bed afterwards."_

_"You what! You're not serious, dude!"_

Joan had to smile at the imaginary conversation. What _would_ she tell Grace? Because Grace was sure going to inquire about the trip—and especially about how her meeting with Adam had gone. The cuts on her face just about screamed for an explanation, so the truth would have to be what Grace would get. Joan wouldn't have it any other way.

She suddenly felt exhaustion wash over her, the eyelids starting to droop. She turned onto her uninjured side and closed her eyes. Sleep claimed her only seconds later.

_Sudden claustrophobia overcomes me. I feel trapped, deprived of oxygen. I look wildly around, and recognize the inside of a car. A wrecked car. There's a pretty, woman with blond hair sitting behind the steering wheel, blood smears covering her face and clothes. Looking out the windshield, I suddenly realize there's fire and smoke billowing from the hood, and now I can smell it too—sharp and biting in my nose._

_I know one thing. I need to get out of here. I shake the woman next to me, but she's either unconscious or dead. I try not to panic as I scramble over her lifeless body to open the driver's side door. It doesn't budge. I try the other door. No luck there either. The windows! But of course the power window system is fried._

_There's low popping sounds coming from the hood now, like little explosions announcing what may be to come if the fire reaches the gas tank. Panic threatens to paralyze me, but with a last shred of clarity, I take off my shoe and pound its heel against the passenger side window in a futile attempt to shatter it. _

_Outside, I can make out a figure, calmly talking to a passer-by. When I look closer, I recognize Adam. I hammer my hands against the window, screaming his name. He doesn't even look in my direction. It's like I don't exist outside this car. "Adam!" I scream again, sagging back in resignation when I get no sign of recognition._

_When I look back to the driver's side, the person in the seat has changed from the petite, young woman to someone else—someone painfully familiar. As I stare at her, I recognize my mother, blood and bruises now covering _her_ face. Her skin is deadly white, her eyes wide open and lifeless._

_Before I can do or think anything else, there's a sudden burst of sound in my ears and everything happens at once. Fire erupts around me, I am carried through the air, heat searing my skin and—_

Joan awoke with a start, panting hard when she sat up in bed. Pain shot through her hip and she sucked in a breath, her face contorting in momentary agony. She looked around, and for a moment she didn't know where she was. Then she remembered. The accident, the hospital, Adam's apartment.

Her hand instinctively went to her forehead to rub it, but she felt the cuts stinging when her palm touched them. "Shit," she whispered.

She slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed, tentatively getting up to see if her bruised hip would let her. It hurt for a moment, but the pain subsided eventually and Joan trod silently over to the door on feet clad in woolen socks. She carefully opened the door to the living room, so as not to wake Adam. Lingering in the doorway, she listened for a few seconds, but all she could hear were regular breaths coming from a mount of bed linens on the couch.

Joan made her way to the bathroom where she splashed cold water on her face. She then cupped some into her hand and drank a few sips from it. She looked at herself in the mirror, water drops dripping from her face. The face that greeted her was a haunted mummy's, shadows marking her eyes, the cuts and bruises standing out in red against her otherwise pale skin.

She quickly grabbed the towel and dried her face before she left for the bedroom again. In the living room, it was as dark as it still was outside and, not watching carefully enough where she was going in the unfamiliar surroundings, Joan's toe collided with a chest of drawers standing against one of the walls.

"Damn!" she swore out loud, not able to bite her tongue in time. In the few seconds of searing pain erupting in her toe, she didn't see a drowsy Adam rising from his horizontal position on the couch.

"Joan?" he asked groggily.

Joan was still bracing herself against the chest of drawers with her hand, waiting for the stars in front of her eyes to dissipate.

"Are you okay?" Adam asked her, this time more alert.

"Yes. No. I stubbed my damn toe." Joan said with a half annoyed, half angry undertone.

Adam's hand went through his hair and he rubbed his left eye. "Can I ask why you're up in the middle of the night?"

The dream came back to Joan with a jolt of lucidity, her mother's bloody face, the explosion. She drew in a breath, but composed herself because she didn't want to bother Adam with it. "I just... needed to go to the bathroom," she explained, trying to sound matter-of-factly.

Adam obviously bought it. "Right. You need anything? A glass of water or something?"

"No, thanks," Joan declined quickly.

"You think you can go back to sleep?"

"Yeah, I guess... I don't know." Joan's voice suddenly became shakier. The truth was, she was afraid to go back to sleep, for fear she might end up dreaming again.

Adam listened to Joan's voice in the otherwise eerily quiet apartment. He could hear that something was wrong. He had always been able to tell when something was wrong, was bothering Joan, even if she didn't want to tell him. Or at least he used to before things had gone awry.

He untangled himself from his covers and sat on the edge of the couch. He looked at Joan's dark figure, still standing next to the chest of drawers, not moving. He softly inquired, "Joan, what is it?"

"Nothing. It's just..." She tried to come up with an excuse, but the words just wouldn't come out right. Images from the dream still kept haunting her and she finally said, "I woke up from a nightmare."

"Oh," Adam softly replied. "Wanna talk about it?"

"I'm not sure," Joan hesitated, but then went on, "I was back at the accident scene. I was trapped in the car with Linda, and I couldn't get out, and the flames grew bigger and bigger and then it wasn't Linda anymore, it was my mom in the car, and then I saw you outside, but you couldn't hear me yelling and I couldn't get out, I—"

The fountain of words from Joan's mouth stopped when she choked on them. "And then the car exploded and I woke up and... Oh God." Joan's voice was now shaking wildly, she was barely keeping the tears that were welling up in check.

Adam could sense she was close to breaking down, so he quickly got up and crossed the room in mere seconds. He stood opposite Joan and lightly put his hands on either of her upper arms, wincing only slightly as he felt the cut on his right palm stinging unpleasantly. He looked her directly in the eyes, or as much as that was possible in the dark. "Joan," he whispered. "It's okay. You're okay now. It was just a dream."

Joan slowly nodded, not able to hold back the tears that now flowed freely. Limply, she sagged against Adam's body opposite her, who folded his arms around her back, stroking it. "Shh," he said, shushing her quietly.

They clung to each other for several minutes, Joan's sobs slowly subsiding as Adam stroked her unaccustomedly short hair. Joan disentangled herself from Adam's embrace and slowly leaned back. "Sorry," she apologized.

Adam stepped back, giving her privacy, unsure of how much physical contact was too much in this situation. "For what? You've been through a lot lately, I guess you've had this coming for a while. It's okay," he told her softly, understandingly.

Their eyes met and Adam tried to ignore the lump forming in his throat when he saw her eyes were still shimmering with tears. He suppressed the urge to wipe them from her face. "Come on, let's get you back to bed," he said to break the silence.

"Yeah," Joan whispered and Adam accompanied her as far as the bedroom door where he hesitated, letting Joan walk into the room on her own. "Will you be okay?" he inquired, worry tangible in his voice.

"I guess so." She sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You wanna talk, or...?" Adam let the question hang in the air, floating like a paper boat on water.

"No, I'll be fine," Joan said, getting back into bed, adjusting her duvet.

"Okay," Adam said, turning around. "Let me know if you need anything."

When he was almost out the door, he heard Joan's voice again, saying his name.

"Adam?"

He had turned to face her before he even knew it. "Yes?"

"You think Linda survived the accident?"

Adam looked at Joan and went over to her bed. He sat down on it, turning his head so he was facing Joan. He shrugged ever so slightly. "I don't know. Look, we did everything we could."

"Yeah, but what if she had a spine injury and we only made it worse and now she's gonna end up like Kevin. Or worse?" Joan's brow creased as she had to think of her older brother.

"Did we have a choice? If we had left her in the car, she would most probably have died in the explosion. We saved her life, for all we know," Adam said, maybe a bit more forcefully than he had intended.

"I know," Joan sighed. "I just can't help thinking about it. Adam, I saw what happened with Kevin after the accident, I don't want anyone else to have to go through all that. Sometimes I wonder if that isn't worse than being dead. I mean, it must be kinda like that, because the life you had and knew before will be over. Just like that, with a snap of a finger. It seems like such a terrible waste. Why would completely innocent and good people deserve something so unfair?"

Adam's eyes narrowed at this meaningful question, and he wished more than anything that he had any answers for it. He knew so very well what Joan was going through. After losing his mother, he had asked this question a million times: Why? Why did his mother have to die? No one had ever been able to supply him with an answer that came even close to satisfactory.

An unsettled shadow crossed Adam's face that made furrows appear on his forehead. "You know that no one can answer that question," he told her quietly, adding, "Except maybe God."

"Yeah, God," Joan snorted. "Believe me, He's no use when it comes to the big questions. Never has been," she said bitterly. At times like this, she sometimes wondered if He deserved all the trust she was putting in Him.

Adam gave her a confused look for a second, but didn't pursue the subject. To reassure Joan, Adam told her, "Look, I'm sure they gave her the note we left. If she's still alive and wants us to know that she is, I'm sure we will hear something. Just be patient."

He looked at her with a concerned tenderness in his eyes that Joan recognized from years ago, from the time when things had still seemed so innocent, so perfect between them. A tenderness that she hadn't even known she had missed until now. He added, "Go to sleep now, Jane." He bent down and placed a kiss on her forehead. Then he got up and left wordlessly.

Joan watched him leave, his last word only slowly sinking in. He had called her 'Jane'. With a smile that hovered between sadness and satisfaction, she turned onto her side and closed her eyes to go back to sleep, this time devoid of nightmares.

--...----...----...--


	6. Goodbyes and maybes

"Knock, knock!" a female voice came from the apartment door, accompanied by a knocking sound, which awoke Adam with a start. "Adam, let me in, will you?"

He jumped from the couch and quickly went to the door, opening it. "Kate, keep it down," he said, suddenly remembering it was Sunday, and him and Kate had agreed to meet for breakfast at his place, as they sometimes did.

But Kate didn't heed his words and waved a paper bag in front of his eyes. "I got us croissants this time, thought we could use a change. Bagels get so boring after a while," she said cheerfully. And even though Adam was trying to block the door, she squeezed her body through the small space between Adam and the doorframe and went straight into the kitchen with a step that had an almost bouncing quality to it.

Adam followed her on bare feet, smoothing his disheveled hair with one hand as best as possible. Kate shot him a quick look as she prepared the coffee maker. "Gee, you look like you just got out of bed."

Adam finally found his voice. "Kate, this isn't a good time."

"What do you mean, not a good time? We set this up last week, don't you remember?"

"Yes, I remember. But—"

Just at this moment, Joan appeared from behind Adam, clad in her light blue checkered flannel pyjamas, asking, "Adam?"

Kate's eyes widened. "Ooooh! I see. Not a good time, I get it." She smiled despite herself. "Sorry. I think I better leave." She had to suppress the urge to giggle as she walked back to the apartment door.

Adam quickly went after her. "No, wait, it's not what you think."

Kate turned back to face Adam, waiting silently for an explanation with raised eyebrows. Adam looked slightly sheepish as he introduced the two of them. "Joan, this is Kate, a good friend of mine. Kate—Joan." To Joan he said, "Kate and I were supposed to meet for breakfast, but to be honest, I totally forgot."

But Kate was now gaping at Joan. "Joan? You mean _the_ Joan? From Arcadia?"

The look on Adam's face screamed 'embarrassment'. Kate sometimes was a bull in a china shop, but in a lovable way. "Um... yeah," he admitted.

"Wow," Kate said. "That's certainly... a surprise."

Joan was looking first at Kate, then at Adam. Who was this woman with the frizzy, jet-black hair and huge, green eyes? "Can someone please clue me in here?" she demanded.

Adam lifted his arms and gestured at the kitchen table. "Okay, I think we should have breakfast after all."

"Fine with me," Kate chimed in readily.

"Sure," Joan replied, not sounding like she was.

Kate took in Adam and Joan's appearances since both were obviously still in their night attire. "Okay, how about I get some more bagels from the bakery and you two go and get dressed," she suggested.

Adam and Joan both agreed and Adam was the first to venture into the bathroom as Joan went back to the bedroom.

Forty minutes later, both Adam and Joan were showered and dressed. They all sat down at the readily set breakfast table, a pot of steaming coffee and fresh croissants and bagels already waiting for them.

Adam poured all of them coffee and Kate and Joan were already cutting open their bagels. As Joan spread soft cheese onto her sesame bagel, she said, "Okay, so I think either of you knows more about me than I do about you. Care to enlighten me?"

Adam gave Joan an earnest look and in a serious tone said, "Joan, Kate knows what happened. I've told her the whole story after I got back from Arcadia in January."

"Okay," Joan acknowledged. That was fair enough, Adam was entitled to talking about their history. No, actually she was glad he had talked it over with someone other than herself. She had hated seeing him so guilt-ridden, having bottled all of it up for all these years. "So, how did you two meet?" she asked, curious.

An expression of surprise crossed Adam's face. He hadn't thought Joan would accept having discussed their issues with another woman so easily. So much for the new Joan.

Before he could answer, Kate told Joan, "We met in college. We were in the same year, had a couple of courses together. But, unlike Adam, I went for the hands-on craftsmanship track. I'm a painter-slash-sculptor, I run a little art gallery in Bucktown. I mostly do soapstone and some plaster work now. Which is fun," she added cheerfully.

"And you can live off that?" Joan asked inquisitively.

"Hell, no. I wish!" Kate laughed. "Sad, isn't it? I also have a part-time job as a waitress in a café downtown. Kinda feeds the cliché, don't you think?" Joan had to smile as Kate added, "But I like it that way."

"Well, that's good, then," was all Joan could think of to reply.

"So, how come you're in Chicago?" Kate asked as Adam was quietly chewing on a croissant that he dipped in the pool of honey he had put onto his plate.

Between bites of her bagel (that was undeniably delicious), Joan told Kate about the conference and how she had agreed to meet with Adam. Kate eventually inquired about the cuts and bruises and Adam's bandage, and Adam told her about the accident and the stay at the hospital.

Kate listened with rapt attention to their tale. "Whoa, that's quite a bit of a excitement for one day," she conceded. "So, when are you going back?" she asked Joan.

"Tonight, actually," Joan said. Then she realized something and looked at her watch. "Shoot, I need to call the hotel, I was supposed to check out by 10 AM. Guess it's a little late for that now."

Joan got up and left the kitchen to make the call on her cell phone. When she had left, Kate turned to face Adam, chin in hand, her elbow propped up on the tabletop. "So, Joan Girardi waltzed back into your life, who'd have thought," she told him teasingly. "You're not... back together, are you?" she asked brazenly.

He was already used to Kate's straightforwardness, so he wasn't surprised much by her question. "No," was his simple answer, but it hadn't come out quite as starkly as he had thought it would.

"Would you like to be?" Kate had this way of being completely unrelenting, even when privacy was called for. She always asked the questions that politeness would have prevented you from asking. That was one of the things that had made Kate so attractive to him, if only in a platonic way.

He had never really had any romantic interest in Kate, and he didn't think she did in him either. Or if she did, she sure hadn't given any indication. Now he realized why he had found her brazenness so likeable: because it was also one of Joan's endearing qualities that had made him fall for her almost from the moment he had set eyes on her just about eleven years ago.

Adam wasn't sure how to answer Kate's question. Would he like to get back together with Joan? That wasn't something he could answer with a simple yes or no. There was so much emotional baggage between them, things to sort out, things to talk about. They had both changed so much, built a life for themselves, a life that didn't include each other. "Honestly? I don't know. I really don't. So much has changed, things are so different now."

Kate nodded, her chin still in her hand, her eyes fixed on Adam. "If I can give you one piece of advice: You're still hung up on this girl. You know it and I know it. But please, Adam, consider what you're getting into. I don't wanna see you get hurt again."

Adam looked down at his plate, studying the croissant crumbs on it as if they held a fascination that called for complete seizure of one's attention. How ironic Kate would say that, because he had never seen _him_ as the hurting party in this whole murky mess.

"Why does it have to be so complicated?" he sighed, still not looking at Kate.

But before Kate could reply, Joan came back into the kitchen. "I have to go over to the hotel and check out, they said it would be okay if I came straight away."

"Where are you staying, maybe I can drive you," Kate suggested.

Joan looked a little uncomfortable at the offer, not sure if she should be accepting it. After all, she didn't really know Kate. But it was just a short ride, right? "The Hyatt Regency," Joan finally said.

Kate actually whistled, making an impressed face. She looked at Adam and mouthed, "Is she some rich girl?"

Adam smirked and Joan laughed out loud. "No, don't worry, all sponsored courtesy of the boss. I'd probably have stayed in some cheap dive if I'd had to pay for the trip myself," Joan reassured Kate.

Adam looked at Joan. "So, you're coming back here afterwards? To get the rest of your stuff?"

"I don't know. I can pack everything now and take it with me, if you wanna get rid of me," Joan half joked.

"No, no," Adam quickly negated. "You can come back here later, I'm not going anywhere. You know, pack your stuff later without ruffle."

"Okay, sounds good."

Joan and Kate went to go. Kate gave Adam a hug before she left. "Think about what I said," she told him when her mouth was close to his ear before she said goodbye and left with Joan.

Adam closed the apartment door behind them from the inside and leaned his back against it. What was he doing? Was he actually considering getting back together with Joan? Was she even interested in that herself? Wasn't it a little early to ask that question? He had decided to play this thing by ear, but if even Kate was picking up on the chemistry that obviously still existed between him and Joan, then maybe he wasn't in as safe waters as he had thought he was.

He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, rubbing his face with his hands as he let it out again. _Adam, _he told himself, _stop thinking with gut and start thinking with your head._ That had been the problem all along, hadn't it? But whenever he thought of Joan, it was like his brain was on drugs, it just wouldn't think straight. But he knew all too well that nothing could be done about that, so he just had to play it by ear after all.

--...----...----...--

Kate was a nice person and a good friend. That Joan was as close to sure about as possible after a fifteen minute conversation in car with someone you had only just met. She was glad that Adam's taste in friends met her approval, but she didn't know if she should feel flattered or disconcerted by the fact that she had seen a lot of herself in Kate.

Granted, Kate seemed a little more eccentric and buoyant than herself, but the outspokenness and honesty they definitely both shared.

Joan was walking up the stairs to Adam's apartment, carrying her suitcase in front of her. She rang the doorbell and Adam's figure greeted her. In true gentlemanly fashion, he attempted to take the suitcase from her. "Here, let me get that."

Joan made a face but didn't release her grip on the handle. "Adam, don't be silly. I carried it up here by myself, don't you think I can carry it the remaining few feet?"

Adam backed off, lifting his hands in a defensive gesture, but smiling slightly as to indicate that he wasn't offended. "Female emancipation. I'm all for that."

Joan shot him a look before she trudged off to the bedroom with the suitcase to pack the things she had left in his apartment earlier. She was done after fifteen minutes and strode back into the living room where Adam sat with his laptop, placing her ready packed baggage on the floor.

She stood by the doorway for a second, lifting her eyebrows and announcing, "I'm all done."

Adam looked at her, then back at the computer screen. "Give me two minutes."

Joan sat down on the couch that Adam had in the meantime returned to its original state, rearranging pillows and everything. "What are you doing?" Joan inquired, merely curious.

Adam waved one hand dismissively. "Oh, just checking e-mail and stuff. Nothing too exciting."

"Right." Joan briefly considered if she should ask Adam if she could quickly check her own e-mail, but then decided against it. She would be home tonight, she could check her e-mail then. It's not like she had anything urgent waiting for her in her mailbox anyway.

After another minute, Adam closed the lid on his laptop and put it on the couch table. He looked at his watch and said, "Shame. It's a little late to try the lunch thing again and make it work this time. Your flight leaves in about two hours, right?"

"Yeah, 3:15, so I better make my way to the airport." Disappointment washed over Adam's face, and he wasn't fast enough to hide it, so Joan quickly added, "Hey, why don't you come with me, maybe we can catch a coffee or even a late lunch there if there's enough time to spare."

"I was gonna suggest I'd drive you anyway."

"You have a car?" When they had moved around in Chicago, they had been either on foot or in a taxi, so she had just assumed Adam didn't have his own car.

"Um, yeah. Any reason I shouldn't?"

"No. No. I didn't mean it like that. Classic case of misconception," Joan explained.

Adam looked at her a little quizzically, but didn't pursue the comment any further. "So..." He dragged the vowel out as he placed his hands on his thighs. "You all packed and ready to go? Shall we leave, then?"

"Yes, locked and loaded," Joan said.

This time Adam was quick enough to take the suitcase before Joan could, carrying it to the car for her after locking his apartment door behind them.

Adam's car was a dark gray Alfa Romeo, and Joan found it unusual that Adam would drive a car this sportive. She only ever remembered him driving his Dad's rickety truck. No, _camper_, she recalled Adam having insisted on calling the old thing. Truck, camper—whatever. This was different. Just additional proof that there were more things about Adam that had changed over the years.

The drive to the airport was quiet, maybe too quiet. Joan and Adam both silently pondered how they were going to say goodbye again at yet another airport, parting ways to live their own lives, returning to their respective every day routines. And both not sure what to do with it now.

At the airport, Joan checked in her baggage, which was quick and painless. They had half an hour to spare, so they searched for a café that wasn't one of those pass-through joints that was always busy with hectic passengers arriving and departing. They found a Starbucks in the off-peak area where they each got a hot drink and sat down in lounge chairs that had just been vacated, clearing the dirty mugs from the previous customers onto an empty table next to theirs.

Joan looked at the Starbucks logo on her white mug, saying, "Irony of fate, huh?"

"What do you mean?" Adam looked at her, confused.

"That we ended up at yet another Starbucks before one of us flies halfway across the country."

"As long as it doesn't mean that the next time we meet, we'll end up in the hospital again, that's a twist of fate I can live with." He took a sip from his latte. "Will you be going back to work tomorrow?"

Joan put her mug down on the table, licking a bit of foam off her upper lip. "Yeah, I guess."

"You should get that contusion checked out again, just in case. Maybe it'll get you another week off," Adam told her with a bit of a malicious smile.

"Since when did you develop such an evil mindset, Mr. Rove?" Joan joked. "How about you? Can't you skive off work with that cut for another few days?"

Adam took the question too seriously. "We have that deadline coming up on Tuesday. I think my boss would kill me."

A slightly uncomfortable silence ensued before Joan said. "Adam, can you promise me something?"

He looked her in the eyes. "Anything," he told her honestly.

"If you hear anything from Linda, will you call me?"

"Yes, sure. I'll call you the moment I hear from her." After a moment, he added, "You know what? I'll drop by the hospital again after work tomorrow, ask around. Maybe I'll find out more."

"Thanks," Joan simply said.

"Oh, you're going to see Grace, right?" Adam changed the subject.

"Yeah, sure. We're gonna meet on Wednesday. Why?"

"Give her my best and tell her she still owes me a visit to Chicago, will you?" After a short pause, he continued, "And tell her if she doesn't make good on it soon, that I will personally come over and drag her here, with a whip and baseball club if I have to."

Joan laughed. "Ooooo, I think she'll be really scared," she said ironically.

The subject of Grace had found them a new item to discuss, so they ended up chattering about Grace and Tom and, eventually, reminiscing about high school and old times, careful not to touch any of the awkward topics.

When it was time to go, they ventured to find a display panel that would announce which gate Joan was supposed to be at. Gate 21 was displayed next to Joan's flight number, so they followed the arrows that pointed them in the right direction.

Finally, they reached the area where only boarding card holders would be admitted, so the time for them to part had inevitably arrived. They stopped in front of the separation barrier, turning to face each other.

"So, this is goodbye again," Joan said.

"Yeah, looks like it," Adam said in a low voice.

"Promise me you'll call. No matter if you hear about Linda or not," Joan urged him with a scolding undertone.

"I'll call, I promise," Adam replied with conviction in his voice. "I don't know if I'll be over before Christmas, but if I am, I'll look you up. Have a safe flight, okay?"

"Yeah, I hope."

Adam moved closer to her to give her a goodbye hug and they embraced. Adam tried to suppress the urge to draw her as close to him as possible, what with the scent of her flowery shampoo wafting involuntarily up his nose, her hair brushing against his hands ever so slightly. He quickly released her after a few moments.

"Bye then," he told her.

"Bye," Joan replied.

Before she turned around to go, she suddenly did something completely unexpected. She cupped Adam's face with her hands and gently pressed her lips onto his. After the first initial split second of shock, Adam couldn't help but kiss her back, very carefully and softly but still deeply determined.

When Joan pulled back, there was a joyful glint in her eyes. She bit her lower lip, tasting the faintest hint of coffee there. "I just needed to see if you felt the same way," she told him half amused, half embarrassed. "Goodbye, Adam," she said with a slight wave as she turned around and walked past the barrier.

"Goodbye, Jane," a stunned Adam replied.

He stood there for a good five minutes after Joan had vanished from sight, only slowly processing what had just happened. It was like his brain was working in slow motion.

He suddenly heard Kate's words ringing in his ears, but his gut told him to not heed their warning. Maybe sometimes it was the right thing to do to let your gut rule over your mind. Maybe this was one of those times. And maybe it was time he thought about a way of how to align Joan's life with his own, starting with the geographical distance.

Maybe it was time to stop with the maybes.

Maybe.

--...----...----...--

THE END.

**Author's Note:**  
_What's up with you people? No one except for H.G. Glory and Jane and Adam has left a review for my two latest chapters. Is everyone just hanging on for me to post the ending (which I've just done)? Is everyone too busy to read fan fiction? Did you lose interest? Am I just too demanding? Whatever's the case, I hope some of you trusty reviewers will leave me a note or two._

_So, yeah, I've done it again. I've separated them. No real happy ending for you this time either. Well, maybe you can call it an open happy ending. Just to let you know, I'm planning for this to become a trilogy, but I haven't actually started writing part 3 yet. What with me starting a new job in November, I doubt I'll have a lot of time for it either. So please be patient. It's not for the lack of ideas or storyline, it's just that I need to find the time and be in the right frame of mind for writing. And don't fret, I'm planning to bring back Linda and Kate in the next part (in case you were wondering)._

_H.J. Glory had some questions about the timeline. There may have been some confusion if you didn't read the whole story in one go. If it wasn't clear, Joan and Adam were supposed to meet for lunch on Saturday. They then got into the accident. Joan stayed at Adam's from Saturday to Sunday and went back home Sunday night, just as planned. That's why she didn't call anyone. Hope that unconfused everybody.  
_

_Oh, and Jane and Adam? Yes, I am painfully aware that both my stories "Sweet Crusader" and "Seeing Is Believing" are still unfinished and haven't been updated in a while. That's a) because I became obsessed with this future Joaniverse and b) because I still need to spin a few ideas in my head for these two stories because I'm not a 100 percent sure where they're going to go. I have some initial plans, but they need to be worked out and fine-tuned. Don't worry, I'm planning on finishing these stories some time. Just stay tuned and see above._

_Thanks to H.J. Glory for pointing out that there are only few youth hostels in the US and none in Chicago. So I changed that little detail in part 6 now. Guess that once more proves that I should take a trip to the US some time, huh? I've been wanting to for a long time. And I believe I will in the not too distant future. And I just know that I want to see Chicago at least once. _

_And now: Please hit the Review button down below! _:o)


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